Handle With Care
by Ssergit
Summary: G&S Grissom upsets Sara to the point where she demands a resolution of their tension. Complete. Note: Written during Season 3.
1. The Kiss

They looked into each other's eyes, finally allowing themselves the luxury of simply staring. Uncaring of anything that went on in the world around them, their breathing quickened as they drew closer. Her eyes searched his for any sign of rejection, and her heart soared as she saw none. His hand reached out, tentatively, gently brushing her hair away from her cheek. It lingered there, as their bodies leaned into each other's; heads slightly turning in preparation. Suddenly the man pulls back, and the reaction in the woman is immediate. Body suddenly tense, her face shows that she's having an internal battle. Her decision made, she lifts her hands to his arms, holding him still, as if to stop him from retreating farther. Her eyes cloud up slightly as she opens her mouth to speak, but she is stopped by his hand on her lips. Disappointment turns to confusion, the change once again evident in her deep brown eyes. 

"I just wanted to look into your eyes again," he says, gently. Her eyes, so expressive, especially at this precious moment, fill with tears. "Don't cry, sweetheart," he begins again. She closes her lids, setting free two salty drops as her arms close around his back, holding him to her as he speaks again, his face buried in her hair.

"I wasn't running away again, I promise. I was just checking to see if all this was real." He pulls back, cupping her face in his hands and searching her eyes for the love he dared to hope would be expressed there. It was, multiplied a thousandfold. She finally speaks, mimicking his gesture and thrilling to the heat of his face in her hands.

"It _is real, I __am here, and you're stuck with me for life, mister!"_

The music swelled as the couple on the screen kissed passionately, oblivious to the credits scrolling across their images. Sara reached for another tissue, wiping the moisture from her cheeks as she slowly returned to reality. She looked around her apartment, the neatness in the living room disturbed by the mass of tissues and potato chip bags amassed beside her on her couch. Sara quashed the feeling of disgust, reminding herself that at least she hadn't gone to the theater to see this particular movie. The parallels had been too much even for her normally prosaic self--May-December romance, employee-boss relationship, and to make matters worse, the woman had resembled her remarkably. Allowing herself a vicious moment, she wondered what Grissom would do should she send him a videotape of the film. '_He'd probably give me the same confused idiot look he gave me when I handed in my leave of absence,_' she thought to herself. '_Well, at least I have the night off.'_

Almost at that exact moment, her cell phone rang, and Sara glared at it for a moment before lifting it to her ear.

"Hello?"

"Hey, Sara--it's Catherine. I didn't wake you, did I?"

"No," Sara sighed. "No, what's up?"

"Grissom asked me to call you in, we've got a triple."

"I'll be right in, Cath." Sara hung up, knowing the other woman wouldn't see it as a rude gesture, even though at this moment she wasn't feeling particularly polite. There had been a time when Grissom would have called her in himself, and although she was known for being pretty grouchy when awakened, Sara knew it wasn't for fear of her temper that stopped him from calling her in personally anymore. Sara doubted she'd have time for a shower, but she did rinse her face, hoping she would be able to erase the signs of her sentimental tears. It didn't work. Sara groaned as her beeper went off, and she ripped it from her belt with such force that the clip broke off. It was Catherine again, giving the address of the crime scene. Sara glanced into the mirror again, and groaned a second time at her appearance. Her eyes were bloodshot, her nose was red, and she didn't have time to freshen up. She would just have to hope that everyone would chalk it up to her having been asleep when Catherine had called.

Sara arrived at the crime scene in record time, to find Nick, Warrick, and Catherine already hard at work. Nick's presence there was confusing, as he and Sara were already working on a case from the night before. It was unlike Grissom to take everyone off of their cases to work a different one, but not impossible. He'd already done so once this year, to her extreme displeasure--he'd even gone so far as to smack down her objections to it in public. She wondered what was going on with him lately--midlife crisis? Sara looked around for the television cameras, assuming that she and Nick had been once again reassigned due to a political case, and she was relieved when she saw no media whatsoever. She felt slightly better, glad that her quick assumption that he'd moved them off of the case for political reasons was false. That still didn't reveal the real reason, however, and Sara approached Catherine to ask the blonde what was going on when her cell phone rang. Irrationally, she wondered why many people she knew complained about bad service and missed calls all the time, when her phone worked perfectly well.

"Sidle." Sara's tone bespoke her irritation.

"Where are you, Sara?" Grissom also sounded irritated.

"Well, and a good evening to you, too, Grissom. Where do you _think_ I am, I'm at the crime scene!"

"Why are you there?" Grissom rushed on before Sara could say a word in response. "I need you here, please come to CSI right away." Grissom hung up without even allowing her to protest that Catherine had told her to show up at the triple murder site.

"Hey, Sara--what are you doing here?" Nick's voice broke through the haze of anger that had erupted around Sara, and unfortunately he bore the brunt of being the first person to speak to her after Grissom's phone call. His choice of phrase didn't help him much, either.

"Why does everyone want to know what I'm doing here?!" Sara's sense of decorum told her that she was definitely _not_ using her indoor voice, but she was beyond caring at this point. "I was HERE to do my JOB, but apparently that means I get to go chasing around Las Vegas getting yelled at for following instructions!!" Sara turned on her heel and stalked out of the house, a very bewildered Nick following closely behind. At her car, Sara opened the door and almost knocked him over, an action completely her fault but for which the hapless Nick was considered to blame. 

"WHAT?!" Sara was in no mood to explain her anger to Nicky right now.

"Sara, do you realize it's 11 AM and you're screaming?" Either Nick had a lot of courage, or he was going on the fact that he and Sara were good friends, and she wouldn't mind him pointing out such a thing. He got lucky. Sara opened her mouth to bring forth the Wrath of Sidle when common sense finally kicked in. That wasn't to say she wasn't still angry, though.

"You want to know what I'm doing here?" Sara gritted out. "Ask Catherine."

_,~*?_,~*?_,~*?_,~*?_,~*?_,~*?_,~*?_,~*?_,~*?_,~*?_,~*?_,~*?_,~*?_,~*?_,~*?

During the drive to HQ, Sara's emotions varied from rage to despair, alternately angry with Grissom for his actions and angry at herself for caring what he thought of her. It was obvious from the tone in his voice that any semblance of the rapport they used to share was rapidly retreating, and she felt the loss as keenly as she would the loss of a valued friend. Stopped at a particularly long red light, Sara's thoughts spun out of her control, analyzing the past few months' interactions with the man. The Detached Scientist detected a yo-yo like pattern of rejection and attraction, while the Woman Scorned scoffed that it was all a ploy to retain her services at the lab. The Hopeless Romantic was still off writing new poetry based on his once again saying he needed her, ignoring the voice of the Pessimist whispering in her ear that if he was going to say really he wanted her, he would have done so already.

An angry car horn alerted her to the fact that she'd been stopped at a green light, and Sara sped off again, her foot on the pedal her only outlet for her anger and frustration. The pure exhilaration of speeding to her destination was releasing some of her pent-up emotions, but she arrived at CSI far too soon for them to be totally gone. Sara flew into the parking lot, executing a perfect movie-style park job that her conscience told her had completely ruined her parking brake.

Sara was just stepping out of her SUV when she noticed her reflection in the rear-view mirror. For the second time that night, her cheeks were wet with tears, and for the second time that night she had no time to do anything about it. On a whim, she pulled the clip that held her hair off of her neck and shook it out, hoping that she'd simply be able to hide behind it most of the night. '_Besides,' she told herself, '__he's not that observant anyway.' Sara walked towards the main building, her fury not quite spent, and blinding her to the fact that Grissom, as a CSI, was nothing if not observant._


	2. The Anger

If Sara had glanced at her reflection a second time before walking into the lab, she would have been pretty surprised. Her hair was a halo around her head, still fluffy from being in a ponytail, and her tears had left their mark on her face not as a red, sniffly mess, as she had expected, but left her looking drawn and delicate looking, a look that became her. If she smiled, the picture would be complete, but Sara Sidle was in no mood to smile tonight. She stalked into the building, heading straight for Grissom's office. Sara walked into the room and stood in front of Grissom's desk, her arms crossed, waiting for him to notice her presence. No lingering in doorways for her tonight, Gil Grissom was about to get a piece of her mind.

The man in question had indeed noticed her standing there, and instead of acknowledging her presence, he pretended he was focusing on the work in front of him. The phone call from Nick had alerted him that Sara was very angry, and the impatient tapping of her foot along with her combative stance told him that the short drive had not done much to calm her down. He didn't want to keep her waiting much longer but he had no earthly idea what to say to her. Grissom sighed. Why was he so unable to think around her? His mind would go blank and then when he finally figured out what to say, it was usually the wrong thing...

"Am I _bothering you?" After standing there for a full five minutes waiting, Grissom's sigh had been the straw that broke the camel's back. How _dare_ he ask Catherine to wake her up _on-her-day-off_ and order her to a crime scene, only to demand to know why she was there? And now he refused to even _speak_ to her?!_

He finally looked up, attempting to appear surprised to see her there, an action that Sara saw through immediately.

"Don't you dare even pretend you didn't know I was standing here, Grissom, its childish and rude!"

"I was not pretending anything!" Her anger had pierced through his composure, and he could feel his pulse starting to race.

"How could you just sit there, knowing I was waiting for you--"

"You could have said something, Sara." He interrupted her tensely. Grissom ignored the fact that, had his body not naturally and automatically known it was Sara standing there, he might not have heard her if she had spoken to her. The surgery, although successful, was still healing, and his doctor had warned him not to assume it was failing if he had some random lapses.

"You know, I never thought of you as stupid."

Her comment rendered him speechless. He'd assumed she was upset at his taking Nick off of the case and working with her on it instead, although he realized now that could not be the case, as she didn't know, and no one had told her. Now he realized she was furious at him, personally. He stared at her with wide-eyed shock as she went on.

"But you seem to be assuming that *I* am stupid, and the only conclusion I can come to is that you're an idiot." All the pent-up anger and frustration had come pouring out of her in the form of that one sentence, and after she spoke Sara was just about as shocked as Grissom was. She couldn't believe that she had spoken like that to him--he was still her boss.

Grissom stood up, having felt less in charge with Sara standing at his desk, glowering at him. Standing up didn't help much, however, and after quite a few tense moments of a staring competition, he broke eye contact and walked over to the door.

'_I can't believe he thinks he can just ask me to leave! Who does he think he is...' Sara ignored the answer (your supervisor), and was composing a truly vicious thing to say to him when he shut the door and turned around to face her. His mind raced through all possibilities to explain her fury--his rejection of her dinner invitation, his refusal to turn the model case over to her and Nick--even her questioning his professionalism regarding her application for promotion. None of them could quite explain what had tipped the scales of her anger. He looked at her again, as she stood there, arms crossed, eyebrow raised as if to challenge him to a shouting contest. He searched for the exact right thing to say, and, as usual, his mind was a blank. "_What is wrong with you?_" was always a bad idea, as was "_What's gotten into you lately?_" although those were the two questions he most wanted to ask. Sara would have been slightly gratified to learn that he knew better than to go down either of those roads. The trouble was, Grissom not only had no roads to go down, he barely had a sidewalk. He settled on an old stand-by._

"Sara," he paused, clearly hoping she would speak and save him the effort. Sara had no such intention. In her angered state, watching Grissom squirm was more fun than getting a double issue of her favorite forensics journal in the mail on her day off. Well, almost. 

While standing there waiting for him to form some sort of coherent thought, Sara's mind wandered. Forcing herself to stare at him--while a luxury she scarcely allowed herself to enjoy--was becoming more and more difficult, but she was determined to stand her ground. Forcing her facial expression into a mask of skepticism and rage, Sara's inner thoughts were far less menacing. She noticed that he'd let his hair grow a little bit longer, letting the curls she so fanaticized about wrapping around her finger show. She observed that his forehead was displaying a previously undiscovered crease, no doubt an indication of stress. Most of all, and to her complete exasperation with herself, she noticed that he was completely adorable when he was confused. This argument was getting nowhere, however, and she decided it was time to stoke it a little more.

"I know my own name, Grissom."

The woman would simply not yield. Not to mention the fact that she was even more beautiful tonight than normal, not that he thought that was possible. Despite her steely-eyed expression, and ready-for-action body language, she looked almost vulnerable, in a damsel-in-distress sort of way. The hair she normally kept in a clip or wrestled into straight locks was curling gently in a halo around her face, and as he maintained eye contact with her in their battle of wills, he noticed that her eyes were red as though she'd been crying. '_Damn her for making me feel so protective around her!' he thought to himself._

'_Damn him for making me want to forgive him!' Sara shut it out, all the familiar feelings of longing and admiration, and let herself feed on her anger like one dehydrated from a long time spent in the desert without water. In a way, that was exactly what she felt like--as though she were lost in the desert, surviving only on tiny drops of hope rained from the cloud that was Grissom. Except they had become too few and far between, and if she didn't do something soon, she'd die of starvation. It was time to take action._


	3. The Challenge

Sara decided the anger bit wasn't doing her any good. She allowed herself a long speculative look at him, all while judging the distance between herself and the door, and his proximity to it. There was no way in hell she was going to allow him to escape the consequences of his actions tonight. Sara positioned herself in such a way that her advancement towards Grissom would force him to retreat farther into his office, as opposed to out the door. She allowed him one more chance to prevent the reckoning.

"Well?" It was just as well that the man was too clueless to understand the challenge in her question. He'd attracted her, pushed her away, attracted her again, all for some strange and cruel purpose of his own, and Sara wasn't about to let him off the hook with another weak excuse. When she left this office, he had better know exactly what to do about 'this,' and devil take the consequences. Sara knew she would be able to find another job easily if it came to that, and she told herself that the heartache of being without him would be assuaged by the cruelty of his reaction, should he choose to fire her over the decisions she was about to make.

Grissom, meanwhile, had felt an uncharacteristic twinge of fear at the change in Sara's body language and expressions. She had gone from rage to indecision to grim determination, all in a flash he could have missed had he not been watching her so closely. The rage he was ok with, the indecision he could handle, but this determination was what frightened him. He knew in his heart that they would need to resolve this 'thing' between them, but childishly he had hoped he could continue enjoying her company at work, and convince himself that was enough. Enjoying had turned to craving, and that was what had led him to turn away from her. A man who'd fallen in love late in life, he was not accustomed to falling victim to any emotions he couldn't readily shut away or deal with. He suddenly realized that Sara had come quite a bit closer to him than she was before. The look in her eyes was almost feral.

"What's the matter Grissom?" Sara's voice was harsh, clipped. "Don't like being trapped?" For a split second, he was confused as to her meaning, but then the pieces fell in place and her movements toward him made sense. She was now standing in front of the door, blocking any escape. He turned toward his desk, hoping to regain his authority by re-asserting his position as the supervisor. 

"What? Now you can't even face me?" Sara's voice lashed out, and involuntarily Grissom found himself turning back towards her. A sudden giddy thought interrupted the tense moment in his mind, questioning why it was that men could not refuse a challenge laid out by a woman. Suddenly he found he could understand Marty McFly's inability to accept being called a chicken. The retreat to his desk now not an option, Grissom stood with his back to it, facing Sara with _his_ arms crossed, awaiting her next verbal beating. She was a lot closer now, and Grissom cursed his sense of decorum, that forbade his simply turning tail and running out of the room. His mind was now a complete blank, besides the feeling of slight panic, and the intrusive thought that damn, Sara sure was sexy when she was angry.

 A sudden surge of anger came over him. What was she doing here, in HIS office, berating him like he was some sort of naughty schoolboy? He did not call her in on her night off to be treated like this.

"What is it Sara, we have work to do." There, that ought to work.

"Oh, this IS work, Grissom. The hardest work there is." '_Teaching you to realize you pay for your actions, that you can't just play with my heart and then retreat when I decide to take you up on the implied offer.' Her comment clearly baffled him, and she chose that moment to step closer to him._

"What on earth are you talking about?" It was obvious that he had no idea what she was planning. Sara stepped closer. Time to give him one more chance...

"Have you noticed that we hardly ever work together anymore?" He opened his mouth to protest that he had called her to headquarters that night, but Sara held her hand up and stopped him before he could begin. "Don't even try to tell me you didn't have me working solo tonight." Grissom stayed silent, but looked away, which is all the answer she needed. "Griss, if we don't work on our...friendship," Sara had grasped for the correct word, and settled for that one. "We're going to have to give up on our working relationship as well." Somewhere in the back of Grissom's mind, he made the connection that she'd spoken as if they'd given up on their friendship. He supposed that, in all appearances, she was right. That didn't help matters though, considering that he was still completely tongue-tied, not that he could really define what he wanted to say even if he had the words to say it.

Sara stood stalk-still, counting seconds in her head. When she hit 60 with no reaction from Grissom, she launched her plan.

"Grissom." She spoke commandingly, requiring no less than his full attention. "If you're not going to speak to me, not going to fight me with words, then we're going to have to find some other way to resolve this." Sara watched him closely, and managed to catch the slight flicker as his eyes shot from her to the door and back. '_Oh, no, Griss. There will BE no escape._' Sara turned her head and looked pointedly at the door, indicating to Grissom that she'd caught his look.

"Are you feeling trapped, Dr. Grissom? You don't like that feeling, do you? You'd rather run away from life, hide away even from happiness, than be trapped into making a tough decision." With each sentence, Sara had advanced on Grissom, who in turn had backed up as far as he could. Sara's verbal images became reality as he felt the rough edge of his desk on the back of his legs. Sara stepped even closer, now to within a foot of him, blocking his escape with her body.

"You could get away, Griss," she said, her voice considerably softer than it was previously. "All you have to do is touch me; move me out of the way. You can't do it though, can you? You're so used to running away, that you won't even touch me, not even to get away from being cornered!"

He still hadn't spoken a word, not that Sara was surprised. She believed he was finally getting her point, though, and just in case he wasn't, she stepped forward one last time, close enough to feel his heat on her body. She could see the confusion in his eyes; the fear. She knew that, for all the time they'd spent together, as well as he knew her, he had no idea what was running through her mind right now.

She was right, he couldn't do it. She was wrong about the reasons, though. Grissom felt as though the tension in the room was just like natural gas, filling the room silently and invisibly, and touching Sara would be just like lighting a match. The anger and tension they both felt was quickly translating to a slightly different kind of tension, and therein lay the cause of his fear. It wasn't for lack of wanting Sara that caused him to push her away, it was not wanting the lack of her. He didn't think he could take it if he gave in to his desires and then lost her. For him, wanting Sara was an all-or-nothing kind of thing, and being the cautious man that he was, he had tried to convince himself that choosing nothing was the better for both of them. The adrenaline and testosterone rushing through his veins were rapidly changing his mind, though.

"Why won't you speak to me?" Sara lifted a hand to his mouth, tracing his lips with a soft finger. Grissom flinched as though he'd been struck by lightning, and indeed, that was how it felt. His hand snaked up and grasped her arm, not moving it but simply holding on. He wasn't sure if it was to stop her, or to hold on to her.

"Sara, don't--" The words came out as though torn from his soul, as she moved her hand from his mouth to the curls at his forehead, finally indulging herself by twisting one around a finger. The hand he had held her arm with slid up, resting on her shoulder. Grissom closed his eyes as he allowed himself a moment to savor her touch, just as Sara closed hers and did the same. She forced herself to ignore the fact that the only thing he'd said so far was "Sara, don't."


	4. The Response

"Don't what, Grissom?" Sara didn't permit herself to look into his eyes, fearful above all things of what she might find there. He allowed himself to speak to her with his eyes far too much anyway; the messages he tended to convey in that fashion were almost never the ones she would have wanted to hear anyway. As confident as she hoped she appeared to him, inside she was quivering with fear, dreading the pain of rejection that she'd already experienced once, in a situation far, far less compromising. Avoiding his eyes, Sara raised her free hand to rest on his shoulder, and leaned in to press a kiss on the side of his neck. Grissom's own free hand came up to grasp her upper arm, squeezing it almost painfully. Without seeing his expression, Sara couldn't know if he was angry or affected with her actions, but she commanded herself not to care.

"Don't stop? Or don't start..." Sara whispered it in his ear, and was rewarded by a further tightening of his grip on her arms.

Grissom was drowning in a sea of sensation. How Sara had morphed from being an angry lioness to a tempting vixen, he didn't know, but he had certainly been wrong about which was easier to deal with. He'd thought there couldn't be anything more confusing than an angry Sara, but the enchantress whispering in his ear had successfully made a mess of his well-ordered mind, not to mention his already chaotic heart. Her words were an electric current that traveled from his ear straight to his groin, and though he was certain of what he _should say in response to her soft question, if he didn't shift positions--and soon--he wouldn't have to speak to provide her an answer._

Sara breathed hotly on his neck, resisting the urge to nibble on his earlobe. She hadn't intended to go anywhere near this far, but once again had forgotten the things his proximity could do to her senses, and today, her inhibitions. Sara decided that anger + desire was a potent mix, and not to be taken lightly. It felt like forever since she had spoken, although she knew it couldn't have been more than a minute or so. She felt as though she was drunk on the smell of him, the shampoo he used, the deodorant he wore, the clean, fresh, essence of Grissom. Sara moved closer, pressing her body against his, and felt her entire body flush with the knowledge of what she encountered. Grissom groaned involuntarily, and tried to move away from her, but he was trapped against the desk. Suddenly, she wasn't so fearful of what would be revealed in his eyes.

"Tongue-tied, Grissom? Show me." Sara's hand, which had never moved from his neck, curled around to hold his head in place as she slowly, inexorably, lifted her head to kiss him. A split second before their lips touched, their eyes made contact, and the world exploded. Grissom had been frozen in place by her seductive question, not even letting himself dare to believe this was anything but an erotic dream. The second they met each other's eyes, however, the reality of the situation was made crystal clear, and he knew he had a decision to make. Grissom didn't make the decision he expected he would, though.

Their eyes met, and his hands slipped from his grasp on her shoulders to either side of her face, holding her in place. Noses almost touching, their eyes made war as the woman took his gesture to mean he was bringing their near-kiss to a halt. She would have none of it, and shamelessly she pressed herself up against his body, her arms entwined behind his neck. If he was planning to get out of this, he'd have to unwrap her from around him first. Her assumption was wrong, however. Grissom had been trying to establish control over himself, but the second his hands touched her face he lost his battle. He held her there only to allow himself the luxury of seeing the desire in her eyes, totally unthinking of what she might see mirrored in his. They held their posture for a long moment, both enjoying the sights, sounds, and feelings of this new experience.

Sara felt as though he was doing it again--always telling her 'this far, no farther.' '_He may be the boss at work, but I don't like being bossed around in a relationship,' she told herself, ignoring the protests of her common sense that it would probably take more than a kiss, however passionate, for Gil Grissom to see the light. Sara lifted herself up on one leg, and wrapped the free one around Grissom's. The added contact was too much for either of them to bear without a release, and they both knew it. Grissom's mind was screaming at him to take it slowly, but there was no way he was listening. The demands of his body, long starved of even the most secret imagining of such a moment, would not be denied. A hand left her face and slid down to support her leg, as he crushed her lips and her body to his in one glorious moment._

Even in Sara's most closely guarded fantasies, it was never this good. She held on for dear life as she felt her body melt, turning liquid and molding itself to his. His lips on hers were sweet agony, the contact anything but gentle. Though she had been the aggressor during much of their previous battle, it was Grissom who was in charge now. His hand tangled in her hair as his tongue tangled with hers, thrusting and seeking as though he intended to learn every hot inch of her mouth. The kiss turned into a metaphor for all their joys and pains, as each now strove to gain mastery of the other. Sara's right hand slid down his back, clawing a grasp of his shirt, while her left hand slid down and slipped between the buttons to stroke his chest. Suddenly, Grissom simultaneously lifted her up and turned around, placing her on his desk as he traced a path of hot kisses across her neck to her ear. Sara lifted her legs up to grasp his waist, and she moaned in appreciation of his rough ministrations. 

The sound brought Grissom back from the carnal reality, and his body stiffened. Grissom groaned as he realized he had been about to take her on his own desk, right there, in CSI headquarters. 

"Sara, stop." Grissom winced at the way it came out; he sounded like a schoolteacher chastising his student. Sara, for her part, had suddenly been very aware of the position their bodies had taken. Grissom's words stabbed like a hot knife in her back, and she felt as though her entire body was blushing. She studiously avoided his gaze as she detached herself and stood up. Refusing to look at him, she made her way to the door, trying desperately to shut out the image of the movie she'd watched only 2 hours previously. She resolved violently not to ever, EVER watch a romantic drama again, if the memories of them were going to intrude on such delicate moments in her life. Sara took a deep breath, firmly holding back her tears. She would _not give him the satisfaction._

"I guess I got my answer, Grissom." Still avoiding his eyes, Sara turned and walked away.


	5. The Reactions

Sara walked into the locker room and let loose. She knew Grissom would be hiding out in his office, no doubt shredding her application for the promotion into tiny little pieces and sticking them in one of his evidence jars or something. Her vicious mind, ignoring the kiss entirely, reminded her that Grissom had pretty much only spoken two phrases to her, "Sara, don't," and "Sara, stop." Sara decided she could only view the interlude in his office one way, and even though it broke her heart, she would have to take it as gospel. Grissom obviously desired her, but it was equally obvious that it wasn't enough for him. Tears streamed down her face as she busied herself with organizing her locker. She leaned forward, and her badge, hanging from a cord around her neck, got stuck between some books. Sara leaned back, freeing it, and then lifted it to inspect if there had been any damage. 

She could remember the last time she'd taken a good, hard look at her badge. Sara rubbed her thumb over her picture again, trying to recall the day it had been taken. The smile on her face was somewhat sad, and Sara grimly assumed that the sadness was from what it usually was--Grissom. A thought crossed her mind and she laughed, the tears still streaming down her face. Why hadn't she taken the signs for what they obviously were?! She'd been chasing Grissom, to ask him to dinner, when she'd been hurt in the lab explosion. What other explanation could there be, but that chasing Grissom only got her hurt? Suddenly Sara was glad for the kiss they'd shared, for all the heartache it was causing her now. It would be a cherished memory, she decided, and also a warning.

Grissom was once again regretting his sense of decorum. It was obvious that he had said the exact wrong thing again, and this time he wasn't sure it was fixable. If he'd been a different kind of man, he would be slamming his head against the wall right now. His conscience told him that this whole situation was _exactly why he should not be involved with Sara. His normal tactic of running away wouldn't have gotten him into any trouble here, his inner voice nagged, and now look what a mess he had made. The trouble was, he hadn't been trying to run away just now. Grissom wondered if he'd ever be able to get close enough to Sara to explain what had just happened._

Sara was sick and tired of crying tonight. Not counting the many times she'd cried during that sappy movie, she'd already wept twice now! Considering that the last time she'd been in tears over anything but a film had been...Sara really didn't want to think about all that again. She had to hand it to him, though. Grissom seemed to have a gift for cruel rejection. '_And I have a gift for not getting the point,_' she thought ruefully. '_Well, it's drilled into my head now!' Sara realized after all that had gone on tonight, not only was it merely 3 hours into shift, but Grissom was the only one who knew what assignment she was supposed to be working on. '_Screw that,_' she thought, uncharacteristically. Sara let out an 'aha!' as she finally found what she'd been looking for in her locker. Taking the compact with her to the ladies room, she re-appeared five minutes later with little to no sign that she'd been upset at all._

Sara was not about to give Grissom the satisfaction of knowing how much he had hurt her.

Catherine was grouchy. It was her own fault, but she was handling it badly, and she was pretty sure she'd taken a lot of it out on Nick. From what she gathered from him, Sara had shown up and gotten a phone call from someone, presumably Grissom, asking her where she was. Catherine had been sure that Gil had intended for Sara to work the crime scene with them, and so she'd gone ahead and sent her the address. Now it had become obvious that was the wrong thing to have done, but with her strained relationship with Sara lately, she doubted she would be able to make it right with a simple, 'oops, I'm sorry.' In fact, Cat was pretty sure Sara would take her action as purposeful, and Grissom might, too. Nick had made a comment about how that was why inter-office relationships were probably a bad idea, and she had come down on him pretty hard. Not only had that comment sounded like another bid for brownie points in the promotion battle, but he had gotten it all wrong. Grissom and Sara's non-relationship was where the problem lay--if they were actually involved instead of dancing around each other like frightened children, they probably would work together much better. She was also almost certain she'd taken out her frustration about those two on Nick as well. Just in case, she was steering clear of Warrick. She didn't need to offend both of the guys tonight.

Warrick had been a little surprised when he'd come down from his inspection of the vic's bedroom to find an upset Nick and a testy Catherine. From what he could wean out of Nick--Catherine seemed to be completely avoiding him, an action totally unlike her, and one that worried Warrick--it seemed that Cath had called Sara into the crime scene and Grissom was upset at Sara for it. Warrick wondered what his mentor would do if he walked up to him and demanded that he take better care of Sara. No, that would never work, nor would telling him to 'go for it,' although that was what Warrick would have done had it been anyone else. He sure didn't envy Sara the task of unwrapping the onion that was Grissom. Warrick admired him, but the man seemed to thrive on mystery. Nick, on the other hand, was a lot easier to figure out. Warrick wished he could have a long talk with him, too, but he knew that it wouldn't help much. Nick wanted this promotion badly, and it had begun to effect the way he did his job. Not in a bad way, but in a way that seemed out of character for his friend. Suddenly Nick was all about the rules, all about what would get him noticed. Warrick wondered how long it would last, should Sara get the promotion instead.

Tonight was not going well for Nick Stokes. First he was informed he would be taken off of his and Sara's case, and he'd nearly complained that they were close to something--not to mention that he would be the one to break it, as Sara was off tonight--when Grissom told them they would be working a triple. Nick had been worrying himself lately. It seemed like the promotion was all he could think about, and he couldn't seem to help it when it effected his decisions at work. He hoped Grissom would make his decision quickly. He guessed that if he were honest with himself, he would have to admit that he was worried that Sara would get it. Sara. Nick had deduced that the person he'd seen her speaking to that night on her cell had been Grissom, and from her reaction to his question afterward made him curious as to what his two fellow CSI's conversation had been like back at headquarters. Hopefully not like his and Sara's, which had nearly frightened him. An irate Sara was not one to be trifled with. '_Nor an irate Catherine,' he told himself ruefully. On any other night Nick would have simply found a way to go work upstairs with Warrick, and avoid the blonde CSI, but after three attempts at conversation, he'd decided that pretending to be invisible (and working his ass off) was about the only solution. Nick checked his watch surreptitiously, and held back a groan when he saw there were still 5 hours left to shift._

Sara walked into the DNA lab to check on her results, eyes searching for a familiar face. If anyone could help cheer her up tonight, it would be Greg. 

"What do you call a rich person's dog?" Greg's voice boomed from just behind her, causing her to flinch.

"A yuppie puppy?" Sara was used to Greg's unorthodox way of introducing his evidence. The case had involved an affluent married couple; the husband had turned up dead, and the wife claimed she wasn't involved. Her alibi was that she was out walking her dog, a rare type of poodle, but Dr. Robbins had swabbed the victim's face and both Sara and Nick hoped that it would yield dog saliva. From the triumphant look on Greg's face, it appeared that it had. 

"I'll call Brass to bring her in. Good work, Greg!" Sara reached out to rub his shoulder, her heart aching for human contact. Greg reached out to grab her waist, and before she knew it, they were mock ballroom dancing around the lab.

"Greg!" Sara protested; she wasn't quite in the mood for such a thing. Suddenly he stopped.

"Have you been cheating on me?" His voice was teasing, but his question was totally out of left field.

"What?!" Sara couldn't believe what she just heard.

"Your hand smells like Grissom's shampoo."

Greg's face showed he was serious. Sara simply stared at him, shocked that he had managed to ferret out her secret. After a long moment, she realized he actually expected her to answer him. Sara went for the lesser of the two evils.

"And how is it you think you know what Grissom's shampoo smells like?"

"I don't just want to be a CSI because it's fun to hang out with you guys, you know." Greg almost sounded hurt. "You haven't been yourself lately, Sara. All he ever does is hurt you!"


	6. The Mistake

"Greg!"

"Don't 'Greg' me, you know it's true. Did you really think a little bit of makeup could hide the fact that you've been crying?" Greg's tone of voice was intense as his expression. Sara wanted to look away, but she was caught by his accusatory stare. '_Has it been that obvious to everyone?_' she asked herself. It certainly appeared to have been to Greg. His next comment made her wonder if he could read minds.

"It's been obvious to me." Greg took Sara's other hand and held them tightly, knowing somehow that giving her a hug (his first instinct) would be too much for her right now. "Some people may not look at you closely enough, but I do."

"Oh, Greg!" Sara tried to laugh, to mask the lump in her throat, and it came out as pathetic as she hoped it wouldn't have. 

"Am I interrupting anything?" Grissom's cold voice cut through her heart, and she and Greg turned to find him standing there, files in hand, looking disapproving. She opened her mouth to explain, then shut it. What did she care what he thought of her now?

"No." Greg's voice was firm, and he stepped in front of Sara, a move calculated to protect her from Grissom's penetrating stare. Sara felt sick. '_How long has he been standing there?!'_

"Good, because I need you to run this right away." Grissom held out the evidence bag and waited for Greg to take it. He didn't leave once the lab tech had it though, he appeared to be waiting for him to leave, so he could talk to Sara. Greg stood his ground, though, and when Grissom raised an eyebrow at his audacity, Greg turned around, grabbed Sara's hand, and dragged her out the door with him.

"Greg, what are you doing?!" Sara had been unprepared for his action, and had nearly sprained her ankle tripping after him.

"I'm not going to let him hurt you again."

Before Sara could protest, Grissom's voice called through the lab.

"Sara, could I have a word with you please?" Sara groaned, and started pinching her own arm, hoping against hope that this was all just a horrid nightmare.

"Don't go, Sara."

"Don't make it worse, Greg," Sara watched as his face fell, and she reached out and squeezed his hand in reassurance. She was about to say something when a shadow cast over them. Grissom was at the door, and when she looked up, she thought she almost could have seen a flicker of pain in his eyes as he saw Greg's hand in hers. '_Don't forget what he's done to you, Sidle. Stay strong,_' she told herself firmly. Sara shot Grissom a look of pure hatred, and then marched past him into the breakroom. Once there, she sat down at the head of the table, Grissom's usual seat, and leaned back in her chair, feet propped up on the table. '_The next best thing to confidence is the appearance of it,_' she thought to herself.

To say that Grissom was confused would be an understatement. To say that he was hurt would be putting it lightly. A more apt description of how he was feeling (although he'd never in a million years admit to it) would be to say that he felt like Sara had taken his heart and stomped on it with high heels. '_Sara doesn't wear high heels,' he thought to himself incongruously. '_Since when do you notice her enough to know?_' Tonight was just getting worse and worse._

He'd just spent the past half hour or more convincing himself to go talk to her; going on the look in her eyes before their tumultuous kiss. He had been sure he'd seen desire there, almost convinced she'd seen admiration, and wouldn't let himself even hope he'd seen... what? Love? Grissom was too prosaic to allow himself the thought. Not that it mattered now, anyway. She'd gone straight from his arms to Greg's. '_That's not how it was, Gil, and you know it.' Grissom was in no mood to listen to reason. He'd walked in on Sara and Greg holding hands, and when he'd sent the lab rat off to do work he'd actually had the audacity to drag Sara with him. Then, the comment. He could still hear it ringing in his ears._

"I'm not going to let him hurt you again."

He knew he had hurt her, in his desperate attempt to gain control, to not give in to his desire to...Grissom shut out the images before they could cloud his better judgment. The thought that Sara had gone straight to Greg, to relate the whole incident, was sickening. He had thought he'd known her better than that! He turned the corner into the breakroom to find Sara ensconced at the end of the table, her feet up and a devil-may-care look on her face.

"What do you want?" She asked it as though _he_ was the one telling secrets. Grissom took a deep breath, and told her.

"I want to know why you ran from my office to the DNA lab to tell Greg--"

"You want to know... WHAT?!" Sara's voice boomed through the small space. Petulantly, all he could think about was that she'd cut him off before he'd had a chance to finish. 

Sara hadn't thought it was possible to be more angry at Grissom, but it turned out she was wrong. Very wrong. She abandoned the cool, confident posture she'd attempted to convey, and instead got up to pace around the room. In typical female fashion, whenever her eyes rested on a small, hard piece of matter, she contemplated what it would do to his head. Sara wasn't much for swearing, but she always thought there was a time and place for everything. While she was composing an answer to his audacious question, he had the temerity to speak again.

"Sara, maybe here isn't the best place to discuss--"

Sara wasn't about to let the jerk finish a sentence.

"Oh, no, Mr. Boss Man, there's no way I'm going anywhere NEAR that office of yours." Sara's work ethic caused her to lower her voice a few decibels. It wasn't anyone else's fault she was upset anyway, why make them suffer?

"Grissom, what the _fuck_ is wrong with you?" Sara went on, quickly, as the question was meant to be rhetorical. "How could you even think that's what I was doing? As a matter of fact, I went straight to the locker room to cr--" Sara stopped herself just in time. There was no way she wanted him to know just how upset his rejection had made her. What was it her mother had always said? 'The truth comes out when you're angry...' Sara was horrified to find that her eyes were misting up even as she yelled at him. She turned away, hoping he hadn't seen.

He had seen. Grissom's anger melted away as he realized just how badly he'd screwed up. Sara had stopped herself from speaking the word 'cry,' but it wasn't too difficult to deduce the word. He was disgusted with himself for his assumptions, knowing that most women needed comfort when they were upset. Sara probably would have rather died than ask for it from him. Grissom's nerves were on edge as he felt unfamiliar terror rush through his veins. What if he'd really screwed up this time? He'd never seen Sara this upset, and he knew it was all his fault. The last time he'd screwed up this badly, she'd immediately filed for a leave of absence. 

Grissom knew a plant wouldn't be enough to fix this.


	7. The Resolution

Yet another time that night, Sara and Grissom stood a few feet apart, eyes locked in a staring competition. Yet another time that night, Sara was incredibly angry, and yet another time that night, Grissom was aware that he had made another horrible mistake. He was indeed tongue-tied--he desperately wanted to fix the mess he'd made, but he was terrified that if he said anything else, she would leave. Forever. It was for this reason that, when Sara started toward him again, he once again started to back away.

'_That's right, Griss. I advance, and you retreat. You know this dance very well...' Sara thought about all the times they'd done the same thing, just not physically. Flirt, run away, insult, flatter. As sick as she was of the whole thing, she knew that if he managed to pull her in again, she'd go willingly. He'd have to work pretty hard for this one, though. Sara was also terrified--terrified that this would be the one time Grissom backed away without taking her with him. She had a sudden, strong urge to just pour out her soul to him, to tell him how she felt. As much as it would throw him off his feet, it would probably just blow up in her face again. '_Let's go to dinner. Let's see what happens..._' Sara shook her head vehemently, trying to rid herself of the recurring nightmare._

"What would I tell Greg, Griss?" Sara stepped closer. "How I was angry with you, how I confronted you? How I had to force you to kiss me? Should I tell him how many times you told me to stop?" Sara shook her head again. "Is _that what you think I ran to tell Greg?" Grissom was shocked at her interpretation. Was that really how it had seemed to her? That wasn't how it went!  
"That wasn't how it was!"_

Sara couldn't let him distract her.

"Which part, Griss?" Her sarcastic tone was wounding. "'Sara, stop.'" 

He interrupted her without thinking.

"You didn't force me into doing anything I didn't want to do!"

Sara hadn't heard him.

"'Sara, don't,'" she was saying. "I just can't seem to get the message, can I?" Sara asked the question, but sounded as though she was really asking it of herself. 

"I didn't mean to hurt you, Sara." Grissom tried to smooth things over, but once again it appeared to be the exact wrong thing to say.

"...but you don't feel that way about me, yeah, yeah. I _know Griss. You don't have to worry anymore. I finally got the message." Sara's eyes were once again tearing up, and she couldn't believe she was actually saying these things to him. How was she ever going to face him again?_

"Sara!" Grissom saw her turn away, and her next words forced him into some harsh realizations.

"I promise I'll give up," she said, her voice cracking with the strain of holding back her tears. "I'm through chasing the man," she spoke again, in a near whisper. "Next time, I'll let the man chase me." Sara turned and fled, leaving Grissom with the feeling that someone had just handed him a live wire. Her words had caused him to reevaluate, in a split second, all the interactions he'd had with her over the past three years. Seen in a slightly different light, he was almost able to see what she had been referring to. His next thought was to realize that Sara believed he didn't care about her, whereas he had just realized, just then, how much he really and truly couldn't live without her. '_I'll let the man chase me_...'

Grissom realized his journey over the past few months, his search for himself, had come to and end, and the conclusion he came to was that he was incomplete. He needed someone. He needed Sara. Suddenly, for him, the need to comfort her--to reassure her--was stronger than his need to maintain his dignity.

Grissom ran like hell after Sara.

Sara was impressed to find she had made it into her car without collapsing in tears. '_Correction,' she thought to herself. '_TO the car._' Sara laid her head down on the hood of her SUV and let loose. She had parked in between the two streetlamps that lit the CSI parking lot, and she was glad for the darkness. The vehicle was still slightly warm under the hood from having been driven only an hour or so before, and its warmth was somewhat comforting to Sara. At least, it was until she realized it, and the thought of her being comforted by her car instead of by _him_ drove her into another bout of weeping. Thus distracted, she missed the frantic figure of the man who came flying out of the front of the building, eyes searching for a particular person._

Grissom couldn't hear a thing but the sound of his heavy breathing and the anxious beating of his heart. '_Where is she?!_' His eyes scanned the parking lot for her license plate--he had memorized it long ago--and in his haste he failed to see it. Grissom looked in despair at the road leading from the lot, not really expecting to see her car. His breathing slowed, his pulse relaxed, and still he stood there. He began to perceive sound, the ambiance of the Las Vegas night, and then he heard it. At first he thought it was an animal, and then his heart crumbled when he realized what it was. A woman crying. Sobbing, in fact. And it was his fault.

He once again scanned the parking lot, this time seeing her car parked in the dim light of the early morning. He started toward it, finally seeing the pathetic figure of his Sara, crumpled on the curb, head in her hands, leaning against the hood of her car. The sight pierced his heart.

"Oh, Sara," he said, hastening toward her to ease her misery. At the sound of his voice, her head jerked up, and her hands rushed to her face to wipe away the evidence of her tears. She looked at him accusingly, as if to ask him why he had followed her, if not to mock her in her pain.

"I don't need your pity." Sara said it with such vehemence that he felt the stirrings of anger. '_Why was she so difficult!?_' He saw her reach for her keys, and turn to get into the SUV.

"It's _NOT pity, Sara." Grissom stopped her with a rough hand on her arm, moving to stand in front of the car door._

"Don't worry, boss--I won't file for sexual harassment," Sara said, cruelly. She wasn't sure why she said it, she guessed she just wanted to hurt him like he had hurt her. It had worked, too--she could see it in his eyes. She spoke again, quickly, before she lost her nerve. "After all, it was only a kiss. I wouldn't drag your name in the mud."

"Only a kiss?" Grissom was really angry, now. He was distracted enough by it that Sara almost got past him to the door of the car. Almost, but not quite. Grissom reached out and snatched her keys from her hand and threw them back over his shoulder, uncaring where they went as long as he could keep her from running away from him again. 

"_Only a kiss?!" Grissom grabbed Sara's hands and pinned them up against the car window, mimicking the posture they'd taken a few weeks ago, in the guise of solving a case._

"Grissom!" Sara didn't know what to make of his reaction.

"I wasn't accusing you of _anything_, Sara--and you couldn't drag my name in the mud, you've never even USED it!" Grissom was nearly shouting now, and Sara was surprised to find she wasn't frightened at all. It seemed she'd finally gotten though the thick brick wall he'd erected around himself. She'd finally gotten through to him. She felt her traitorous heart grow weak and hopeful.

"Grissom," she began again, only to be interrupted again.

"Gil, Sara. My name is _Gil_." Grissom grasped her wrists with one hand as he silenced her with his other hand on her lips. He held his hand there, slightly trembling, as he looked into her eyes again, this time allowing all the emotions he'd been afraid to express show loud and clear. He felt honored to watch the shifting emotions in her own beautiful eyes--the shock, the disbelief, the fear, and then, finally, the awe. His grip loosened as her eyes misted with tears yet again. He slid both hands down to her shoulders now, and he held her tightly as he asked,

"Gil. Say it Sara, please?" Sara laid her hands on his chest, gently, and stared at them for a minute. He allowed her a second to process all the new emotions before he slid a hand up into her hair, gently coaxing her head up to look at him. Sara finally did, and when their eyes met, she smiled.

"Gil," she started to say, but he stopped her with a kiss. The last coherent thought in Gil Grissom's mind was that he was kissing her with his name on her lips.

And so it ends, this story of mine, 

But story goes on, beyond the last line. 

That tale will be told; never you fear--

With me at the helm, the end's never near!


End file.
